Unsaid

 Baba said I could go out, I knew he would let me perhaps that’s why I asked him. Playing it cool I go to get my jacket and shoes. I didn’t want my brothers to find out, maybe I just wanted some time with myself. I wear my jacket and bring my shoes and quietly go out and as I walk down the stairs I look out the door and I’m thinking maybe it would be better if I just watched all from the window anyways it’s just a snow, I have seen a lot before, I open the door and the fresh air seems to alive me once again.

It’s not cold and not warm

Beauty of there seemed magnificent, although I had already known our street, now it seemed so unfamiliar. Like everywhere had worn a soft, white dress, I felt like I was in an edit, like in the movies but there was something missing. I saw each one of the frozen glasses falling from the grey sky to earth’s open hands, and dancing all together while some flew in every direction they wanted to, in God’s earth and in us human’s heart. 

I see a light there, one that lights up the street 

The one that helps with each snowflake to show up 

Now the softness of the new snow is adding up to more of the beauty of God’s creation and me there, who saw a connection between the snow to everything else, maybe about life or maybe about my other experiences.

Like how short it seemed for the snow to reach the ground for us.

Like how we don’t see the way these snow passed through to get to here and lastly ended on the ground.

Like how these snow will leave and we wouldn’t even remember each one, as we never counted any one of them.

As I said it’s what I just think, I remember when my aunt used to tell me “Don’t talk bigger than your mouth.” But what if what I’m saying is not me trying to show up and just my thoughts, would I be wrong for telling what had passed through my head? Well now thinking it’s not normal for a 10 year old to talk like this. I still feel like a grandma, maybe because I want to remember God in every step of my life

Maybe because I like my experiences and to tell it to people, maybe I should tell my stories to whom they care about it but sure for who that deserves it and as in the poem of Hafiz.

“Heed the advice of the wise, make your most endeared goal,

The fortunate blessed youth, listen to the old wise soul.”

-The Divan of Hafiz